


That Never Was

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: Daydreams [1]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Free. But not quite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Never Was

**Author's Note:**

> I had a daydream. 
> 
> _Hiraeth as: (noun) "a homesickness for a home you cannot return to, or that never was"_.
> 
> I'm gonna start a series about daydreams. I think you guys will find them interesting.

When he looks back on it, really looks back on it, it doesn’t really bother him. The way he watches his feet rise and fall, going from one hall to the next. It doesn’t seem out of place. It doesn’t seem out of the ordinary. It is just there. Like some sense of vagueness. Like some mystic illusion that tingles him to the very core of his bones. 

His bones, his bones. How tired they are. 

In a way, Jack had been expecting this of himself. The itch in his feet had been bothering him for much too long. He had been able to curve the ache, keep the urge under control for months, now, but his resolve finally gave. It finally gives. He is sure that he cannot stop himself now, even if he wants to.

(He doesn’t.)

The halls are deathly silent. He feels like a ghost. Eternally damned to haunt halls that are not his, a place where his soul has left him and moved on and yet he still remains.

He still remains.

Jack knows where he is going. To a degree, he’s always known. He likes to pretend that his feet are dragging him along, and he has no idea where he is going, but he does. He knows exactly where his feet are taking him.

He knows where his heart is taking him, too. 

How fragile his resolve is. It only took a brief time for him to collapse. 

Step, step. He keeps going until instinctively, he stops in front of the door he needs to. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do if it doesn’t work out the way it should.

The way he wants it to.

The way it likely won’t. 

He has to try, though. 

Jack rests his hand on the doorknob. His palms are sweaty, clammy--a fear settles into him. He swallows, and slowly turns it, listening to it creak as it opens. It’s deafening. It hurts. 

Eyes look up. He looks back. 

Thirteen sets of eyes. No, fourteen. Fourteen sets of eyes. But none of them matter as much as the surprised brown ones staring at him. 

Jack swallows. Mark tilts his head, opening his mouth to speak, but the teacher beats him to it. 

“Sean,” she says, almost annoyed. Perhaps they were in lecture. “Can I help you?” 

Jack ignores her. Instead, he keeps his gaze focused on Mark. With tremors in his body, causing every bit of him to shake, he holds out his hand.

His stomach twists. He feels like he’s going to vomit. But he waits. He leaves his shaking hand out for all to see. He says nothing. He stares. 

A beat. Two. Three. His heartbeat deafens him. 

“Sean,” the teacher says again. He can’t remember her name right now. “Please stop disrupting my class.” 

Mark’s eyes bear into him. Confusion. Wonder. Yes, the small hint of wonder. It is there. 

He doesn’t move.

Jack almost puts his hand down. He almost clenches his fists, turns on his heel, and runs to the bathroom to throw up. But he waits a fraction longer. 

And it pays. Mark slowly rises, as if suddenly cracking the code. Nothing else matters in that moment. He walks towards him, the soft squeak of his sneakers on the dusty, tiled floor. 

Him and Mark haven’t been on the best of terms, lately. They had dated. They broke up. It is the way of things. But somehow, Jack is still so wrapped up in him. 

And maybe Mark is, too. 

Slowly, Mark grabs his hand, their fingers locking together. It’s so familiar. Like they had never stopped. Like they still _are_. 

Hand in hand, they walk out. The frantic whispers of the other students fill their ears as they leave. Jack has no doubt the teacher is likely calling security. The knowledge doesn’t alarm him, doesn’t persuade him to move any faster. 

Mark asks nothing of him as Jack approaches the side door, hesitating for only a moment before opening it with his free hand. The wind rushes into their face, crisp and clear and free. 

Free. 

But not quite. 

Without letting go, Jack steps out. Mark stalls for a moment, but a gentle squeeze to his hand gets him moving. They step into the grass. 

The whir of cars rushes in the distance. The wind softly sings. Somewhere in the middle of all that, they breathe. 

Jack keeps walking. Mark follows. 

He doesn’t ask. 

“Don’t let go,” Jack whispers. The sound of the doors opening behind them make him say it again, louder, “Don’t let go.”

Some kind of nerves fill him. But nothing fills him more than the need to just go. Keep going. With Mark. To keep going. Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop. "Don't let go."

Mark’s reassuring squeeze lets him know that he won’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for all the support, as always. Hit me up at galaxyghosty.tumblr.com.


End file.
